


A Little Bit of Chaos

by round_robin



Series: Tumblr Prompts [7]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Background Relationships, Bar Room Brawl, Drunkenness, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Flirting, Fluff, Guard the Bard, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Scar Worship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28845384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin
Summary: Collection of the Lambert/Jaskier prompts from my tumblr.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Series: Tumblr Prompts [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739158
Comments: 105
Kudos: 166





	1. "Get over here, you doof."

**Author's Note:**

> This was the very first tumblr prompt I worked on, anon requested Lambert/Jaskier, using the dialogue prompts: “No, please! No, no no no no no!” and “Get over here, you doof.” Usually I don't do two lines for the same fic, but I found a way to make this one work. (Ratings on each individual chapter, tags to be added.)
> 
> Rated M

“No, please! No, no no no no no! I won’t let you take me!”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, the brand new—and very _expensive—_ tunic thrown over his arm. Lambert’s eyes went wide in horror the moment he saw it and Jaskier settled in for a nice, long tantrum. “Lambert,” he said, finally having enough of this. “It’s a job, a job you agreed to take.”

Baring his teeth, Lambert growled at the offending garment. It wasn’t even that fussy, just a clean, slate gray tunic with a little fancy stitching around the hem that no one would notice. No one would suddenly think this scarred Witcher who liked to growl at everyone and everything, was a pansy, or a fop, or whatever Lambert convinced himself might happen.

“A job I agreed to when I thought I was just guarding your ass, not letting you dress me up. How does Geralt put up with this shit?”

Jaskier cocked his hip to the side, drawing Lambert’s eye down. “Because he knows I will suck his cock after the party, and spend the next fortnight fucking him blind to show my gratitude.” Lambert stayed stubbornly across the room, still wearing his dirty traveling clothes when Jaskier had a fucking gig to get to. A very lucrative one, at that.

Sighing deeply, he threw the clean clothes on the bed and picked up his lute. “Fine, throw me to the wolves then, leave me to my fate. Some nobles carry more knives than you lot, I truly am taking my life in my hands, swimming among those sharks. All to earn coin to keep us in wine and meat. Ah, away I go to—”

“Oh shut up. Fine.” Jaskier didn’t turn around to watch Lambert change (though he desperately wanted to) and soon he had a tastefully dressed Witcher at his side. “You get three songs before I hit the ale,” he grumbled.

“Thank you, dearest.” They headed down to the feast.

Lambert did indeed hit the ale quite hard, but he did his job, watching Jaskier’s back. Though Jaskier met the eye of several men he’d wronged (either by sleeping with their wives and daughters, or you know, sleeping with _them_ ) no one dared come near him, not with his angry, growling Witcher literally watching his ass.

They headed back to their rooms after the party, Lambert pleasantly buzzed, Jaskier riding the performance high. His cock shifted in his breeches as he watched Lambert’s ass through the corridors.

As soon as they reached their room, Jaskier plastered himself against Lambert’s back, blowing cool breath across his ear. “Would you like the first part of your payment now?”

“Mmm, you bet I would.”

Jaskier set his lute down and quickly stripped out of his party clothes, setting them aside gently. He expected Lambert to _throw_ his outfit into the fire, and was shocked to see the man still wearing the tunic, hands rubbing down his own chest. “Are you alright, love? Too much ale?”

Lambert shrugged, his eyes half closed, a soft rumbling purr building in his chest has he pet over the fine linen material. “Nah, I’m fine. This is nice… I like the feel of it. Soft. Like you.” He was naked from the waist down, the tunic brushing the tops of his thighs, doing nothing to hide his slowly stirring cock. It was… quite the image.

A soft chuckle built in Jaskier’s chest and threatened to become a full belly laugh. He clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter, extending the other towards Lambert. “Get over here, you doof.”

Still running his hands over the soft linen, Lambert crossed the room and stood in front of Jaskier. Their eyes locked as Jaskier went to his knees, pushing the fabric up Lambert’s belly, and taking his cock in his warm mouth.

Maybe helping Jaskier at these events was a little worth it.


	2. “My, oh my. You are such a beautiful creature.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soft blue eyes traced over his face and Lambert had to fight the urge to look away. Jaskier placed a hand under his chin and guided his gaze back anyways. “Why don’t you like it when I look at you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for Jaskier/Lambert from spazylady2002, using the line "My, oh my. You are such a beautiful creature.” Background Wolf Pack, but this is very much about Lambert and Jaskier.
> 
> Rated M

Soft blue eyes traced over his face and Lambert had to fight the urge to look away. Jaskier placed a hand under his chin and guided his gaze back anyways. “Why don’t you like it when I look at you?”

Lambert shrugged and went back to pressing kisses down Jaskier’s stomach, brushing his spent prick a little with his shoulder. The bard groaned and his cock gave a valiant twitch… but nothing else. “Feels weird, being all woe is me about it, especially when Eskel has the market cornered on facial scar-related self esteem issues.”

Jaskier let Lambert continue to kiss for another moment before pulling him up, bringing their lips together. A wet tongue darted out to lick up the side of Lambert’s face–over his scars–coating each one in sweet kisses and caresses. He inhaled deep, letting out a long sigh. “My, oh my. You are such a beautiful creature. You all are. How did I get so lucky?”

He continued touching and kissing Lambert’s scars all the way up to his hair line, then back down again, making a meal of it. He’d seen Jaskier do the same to Eskel, but Lambert felt like a jealous baby asking for that attention, his scars where no where near as bad… Yet with Eskel and Geralt sleeping in the bed next to them, wrapped up in each other’s arms, Lambert felt like he could be selfish for the moment. Yeah, he’d let the bard kiss and coo over him, there was no harm to it, not in the middle of the night, safe in bed with the pack around them.

Jaskier’s spent cock gave one more effort to stiffen up, but alas, they were truly done for the night. “Tomorrow,” he whispered, biting Lambert’s ear lobe. “If I don’t wake up with my cock in your mouth, I’ll consider the day off to a poor start.”

Lambert let him kiss for a little bit longer before settling down, strong arms holding Jaskier tight. They really needed their rest, especially with such amazing morning plans waiting for them.


	3. It's A Beautiful Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The warm weather was good to Lambert. The youngest wolf hated the cold and spent most of the season bundled up, only removing his clothes when it came time to writhe around in the warm bed. Now, he stood with his collar open almost down to his navel, lovely chest hair on display. Jaskier tried not to lick his lips. Judging by the smirk on Lambert's face, he wasn't hiding his emotions very well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from an anon: it's a beautiful night, we're looking for something dumb to do. Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you.
> 
> Rated M

It was a chance meeting on the road. Geralt and Jaskier parted ways a few weeks before with plans to meet up again before winter, leaving Jaskier a season and a half to earn coin to contribute to their winter preparations; he wasn't a Witcher, but after so many years, Jaskier felt as much a part of the School of the Wolf as any of them, he fully intended to pull his weight and bring enough supplies to last them all through the winter. And if he happened to have some coin left over to splurge on a new doublet, well, that was just icing on the cake wasn't it...

Speaking of the School of the Wolf, Jaskier was in town for no more than two seconds—eyes shining at the wonders of the Belleteyn celebrations going on around him—when he saw a familiar head of dark hair and a set of golden eyes. “Lambert!”

He pranced over to the Witcher and received a wry smile. “Well, well, should've expected to find a bard at a Belleteyn festival. Where's Geralt?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and stepped in close, ostensibly to be heard over the people around them, but actually just to be closer to Lambert. While Geralt might be the Witcher Jaskier traveled with, he was a friend to all Witchers. More than friends, really, when the winter nights were cold and sharing a blanket just made good sense, or all of them piled in the bed together, erections just happened... So yes, Jaskier was perfectly comfortable being the slut of Kaer Morhen, and he was delighted to see one of his winter lovers in the height of summer.

The warm weather was good to Lambert. The youngest wolf hated the cold and spent most of the season bundled up, only removing his clothes when it came time to writhe around in the warm bed. Now, he stood with his collar open almost down to his navel, lovely chest hair on display. Jaskier tried not to lick his lips. Judging by the smirk on Lambert's face, he wasn't hiding his emotions very well.

A strong arm looped around his shoulders, pulling him along. “C'mon, gorgeous, let's get something to drink.”

As with most Belleteyn festivals, there was “something to drink” on nearly every table. Lambert smiled when his eyes landed on the vodka, and he quickly stole a mostly full bottle, taking a swig before passing it to Jaskier. The bard had seen exactly how much vodka the Witchers could drink before they felt it (Lambert's moonshine however, was another matter entirely) and took a smaller drink himself, then passed it back.

They drained the bottle quickly and the lights around them began to swirl, Jaskier's vision going blurry. Lambert held onto him, keeping him upright and plying him with food and drink as his low voice whispered sweet nothings; it was Belleteyn, the whole crowd was soused, no one would notice a Witcher and his lover getting close...

Soon enough, Lambert's eyes started to glaze over as well, somewhere around their third bottle of vodka. Jaskier didn't know where they kept coming from, Lambert always seemed to have a bottle in his hand.

“Letss sit down,” Lambert slurred. People were still dancing, about to light the big bonfire. Jaskier let Lambert pull him away from the crowds, out into the fields where other couples were enjoying the alone time. No one looked at them, so no one cared that two men were about to wander off to fuck as much as they could before the alcohol took them out of commission for the night.

Vodka bottle dropped somewhere, Jaskier felt both of Lambert's hands moving under his shirt, stroking over soft skin, one wide palm splaying across the small of his back. A warm nose pushed under his chin and he tipped his head back, letting Lambert do as he pleased. “It's a beautiful night,” he purred between kisses.

“Mmm, yes, it really is.”

Lambert went to dip him and they both ended up on the ground. Hysterical laughter bubbled from Jaskier's lips and Lambert soon caught it, both of them giggling, rolling through the tall grass, occasionally snatching sloppy kisses. Eventually they rolled under a tree, the tall grass obscuring them as Lambert licked into Jaskier's mouth, kissing him breathless. “I like you,” he whispered, soft lips dragging across Jaskier's jaw. “You're the best thing Geralt's ever dragged home for the winter.”

“Really? I seem to remember your first reaction to me sounding something like 'if he sings the coin song, I'm throwing him out the south tower.' What changed your tune?”

A hot hand thrust between his legs and Jaskier gasped. “This.” Lambert continued stroking Jaskier's cock through his breeches, they were too far gone to do anything like that, but the attention was nice, the steady weight of an experienced hand, a hand that knew Jaskier's body intimately... Mmm, it was actually very relaxing, Jaskier could fall asleep like this...

* * *

Jaskier squinted in the bright light of the mid-morning sun, pulling his hat down over his eyes. “Ugh, fuck...” The ground under him grunted, and only then did he remember he fell asleep on top of Lambert, not the worst as far as mattresses went, and the strong arms around his waist made him feel a little better about his hang over.

They managed to get themselves together and blinked, bleary eyed, at the other couples doing the same. Leaning back against the tree, Lambert sighed. “Well, you can assume it was a good night if you can't remember it.”

Jaskier shrugged. “I don't think we missed much. I remember stumbling out here, then we must've fallen asleep.” He rubbed his temples, trying to chase away the headache that seemed determined to crack his skull open like an egg. Lambert was strangely silent next to him. Jaskier had woken up next to Lambert after many a winter bender, and knew him to be filled with piss and vinegar when hung over, and so many colorful curses. The silence was... unusual.

He cracked open one eye and saw the Witcher staring down at a piece of parchment in his hands. “What is it?”

Again, Lambert said nothing. With shaking fingers, he passed the parchment over for Jaskier to read.

_**Certificate of Marriage, Jaskier the Bard and Lambert of Kaer Morhen** _

Jaskier's eyes were definitely open now. The raised seal of the mayor gleamed up at them in shiny red wax. “I'd say we missed a lot last night,” Lambert said.

Head splitting, mouth tasting like something crawled in and died there, it took a moment for Jaskier to gather his thoughts. “Well, Lambert my dear, if we truly are married, let's do it in style.” If one thing could be said for Jaskier, he was good at rolling with the punches.

They traveled together the rest of the season, making the trip north side by side. It was awkward at first, Jaskier was Geralt's bard though he loved keeping company with the others, but they soon settled into a rhythm. Jaskier even got a few songs out of Lambert's contracts, dubbing him 'the Young Wolf,' stalking The Path.

Geralt was strangely absent from their usual meeting point and Lambert shrugged, pulling Jaskier in close and licking up his neck. “More time for me.”

When they arrived at Kaer Morhen, Vesemir met them in the front hall with a raised eyebrow. They didn't have to tell him anything, after so many years, Vesemir could sense Lambert's bullshit a mile away. “What did you two do?”

Lambert shrugged. “Do we have a honeymoon suite available? I'd like to show my bride a good time this winter.” Jaskier tittered with laughter, then yelped as Lambert picked him up into a bridal carry, taking him upstairs to unpack their things.

Vesemir watched them go, shaking his head. Geralt sent a raven last month, something about finding Jaskier and Lambert drunk in a field on Belleteyn and bribing the mayor to give him a fake, but very real-looking, marriage license. The White Wolf might seem stoic and calm, but fuck, he had a prank streak a mile wide. It was going to be an interesting winter.


	4. A Good Brawl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lambert's eyes scanned each corner of the room, expecting to find the bard cradling his lute, protecting it from any damage. In reality, he should've been watching the center of the fight where Jaskier used said lute to concuss three men in a row. The rip of silk drew Lambert's eyes to the center of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> agnew-writer requested feral Jaskier/Lambert. That prompt just screamed bar brawl.
> 
> Rated hard T/M (for blood and violence)

Lambert honestly couldn't say how it started. One minute, they were having a nice time, Jaskier was playing, raking in the coin to finance their trip up to Kaer Morhen, then suddenly it all went to shit. Food flying through the air along with fists and curses, Lambert already ducked three full pitchers of ale thrown at his head, and honestly, he didn't know why.

Dodging a sloppy, drunk punch, he nailed someone else in the gut, taking one more participant out of the bar fight as his eyes darted around for his bard. “Jaskier!” he shouted and ducked another flying plate. “Jaskier!” Fuck, he was the most brightly dressed person in places like this, how hard was it to locate a sky blue doublet?

Lambert's eyes scanned each corner of the room, expecting to find the bard cradling his lute, protecting it from any damage. In reality, he should've been watching the center of the fight where Jaskier used said lute to concuss three men in a row. The rip of silk drew Lambert's eyes to the center of the room. “Jaskier!”

Standing on the table, lute in one hand like a club, broken bottle in the other, a little blood dripped from Jaskier's slowly fattening lip. His doublet hung off him, torn and ruined, but Jaskier didn't seem to care. A feral growl broke from him and he jumped off the table, the heavy instrument coming down on yet another head. Lambert tried not to wince as he heard the very obvious crack of bones. Fuck, Geralt had warned him about this, but he didn't believe him! _Don't leave Jaskier alone with a rowdy crowd, he gets... a little wild_. The idea of his sweet little song bird getting any sort of wild outside of the bedroom was laughable, so Lambert didn't pay Geralt's warnings any mind.

He'd definitely listen next time.

“Jaskier!” he shouted and started pushing passed grappling bodies, trying to make his way towards Jaskier.

As he pushed and shoved, he tried to keep his eyes on Jaskier and, honestly, what Lambert saw was kind of beautiful. Blood dripping from the cut in his lip onto his shredded doublet, Jaskier's eyes were on fire, one lip curled back to bare his teeth. It was the most intimidating war face Lambert had ever seen outside of another Witcher. He'd met soldiers who couldn't pull that off as well as a soft, perfumed bard. Fuck.

Okay, walking through a fight with an erection, probably not the best idea, but as soon as his arms closed around Jaskier, it didn't matter. “Get the fuck—oh, Lambert! Hello, darling.”

Bloody and bruised, Jaskier still managed a smile for him, looking up at Lambert like he was the fucking moon. He didn't even glance away as another man rushed them, winging his lute back to hit him hard enough to definitely crack his skull. “Jaskier... what happened?”

He shrugged. “While you were getting a drink, some bastard said all Witchers should hang in the town square. Interrupted the chorus—rude—and was uncouth besides. I may have thrown my drink in his face, he's the one who took it out of hand!”

Lambert blinked, ducked a punch, kicked a guy in the stones, then looked back at Jaskier. “You started a bar brawl because someone was mean about Witchers?”

“No...” Jaskier turned, smacking yet another would-be attacker with his lute. “I threw a drink on a cretin who wasn't properly thankful for the service you just did his town.”

For a moment, the raucous shouting and sounds of broken plates around them dimmed. Lambert looked at Jaskier and felt a pang in his chest. He moved in close, his hand connecting with a man's jaw before he could lay a hand on the bard. “Jaskier,” he said, low enough so only Jaskier could hear him. “I fucking love you.”

Blue eyes sparkled in the light of the candles that had fallen to the floor, lighting the straw strewn around to cover spills. “I love you too, Lambert.”

He wasn't sure who moved first, him or Jaskier, but suddenly they were kissing and the rest of the world fell away. The copper tang of Jaskier's blood added to the heat between them. Jaskier had tasted Lambert's blood far too many times to count, and now he got to return the favor. The brawl raged around them but for all Lambert and Jaskier knew, it was a thousand miles away. They kissed like there was nothing better for them to be doing.

Then, they pulled apart and joined the fight anew. From then on, Witchers were welcome in that town, but bards named Jaskier most certainly were not.


End file.
